


The First Pas de Deux

by Livefrommybedroom



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A ridiculous amount of fluff, Alternate Universe, Broadway, Bughead- AU, F/M, Fluff, Hal is dead, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jason Blossom is Alive, Rating May Change, Tattoo!Jughead, ballerina au, ballerinas, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livefrommybedroom/pseuds/Livefrommybedroom
Summary: Betty Cooper is the last of the Cooper children to join the ranks of principal dancer at the American Ballet Theater in New York City. With a ridiculous amount of pressure on her shoulders, Betty finds solace in the tattooed arms of her partner, Jughead Jones, ballet's resident bad-boy. But can she trust the boy who has a shaded past to lift her to new ballet heights?OR: Betty can't contain herself around Jughead because most of the time, he's in tights and his arms are really nice okay?OR: The ballet AU no one asked for.





	1. The Rose Adagio

_The Cooper Triad is Complete_

_By Ethel Muggs_

_What do you get when Betty Cooper joins the American Ballet Theater? A menage a trois, a trifecta, a triad of prodigious ballerinas all coming from the same family._

_Yes, I am speaking of Chic, Polly, and Betty Cooper, formerly of Riverdale, New York. Yes, I am speaking of the principal dancers at three of the world’s best ballet companies._

_Betty, 22, now joins the likes of her brother and sister, spinning, waltzing, and piquing her way to dancer stardom. At such a young age, it is unprecedented for Betty to join as a principal dancer. But she’s put in the work. Winner of the 2015 Youth America Grand Prix (Senior Age Division), Betty began dancing at the age of three at her local ballet studio._

_“Chic had already been dancing for six years, and Polly for three, so I didn’t see why I should stray from that mold,” Cooper says. “My mother used to be a dancer, and pushed us to do our very best, on stage and in the studio.”_

_After winning the Grand Prix (like her sister did in 2013 and brother did in 2009), Betty joined the ranks of the Royal Ballet in the United Kingdom, as a soloist. Her brother was also promoted to principal in the company, that same year. From The Royal Ballet, she moved to the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago, and then the New York City Ballet, where she participated in two seasons as a principal dancer. At the Joffrey, where there are no dancer ranks, Betty often times danced the parts that principal dancers would dance._

_Her dedication to the art only grew after the death of her father Hal, last year. If it is possible, she has only gotten more graceful and beautiful than before._

_“Losing my father was hard, but I know that he would want me to dedicate myself to my passion,” Betty said. “I dance everyday and it’s all for him.”_

_That dedication has payed off, seeing as Betty will go on to play Aurora in the American Ballet Theater version of Sleeping Beauty. Other cast favorites include Cheryl Blossom as Carabosse, and Reggie Mantle as one of Aurora’s suitors. Not sure where Misty Copeland fits into all of this, but rumors have it that she’s making a new ad campaign for Under Armor._

_Tickets go on sale on March 1, and show dates are posted online. Best of luck to Betty Cooper in her debut._

***

The fact that New York City could not get its act together when it came to public transportation, made Betty Cooper very very late for practice. It was her first day, at a major ballet company and there she was, bogged down by a tutu, duffle bag, and her morning coffee, attempting to call an Uber. The app wouldn’t open, then her credit card was declined and over all, it was not a great start to her morning.

“Fuck,” she said as scalding coffee sloshed its way out of the cup and all over her hand.

If she had half a mind, she would’ve gotten up twenty minutes or thirty minutes earlier, but moving had been long and stressful, and her bed was warmer than the frosty air of January in New York City. Her laziness had gotten her in this predicament and she would be damned if everything didn’t then decide to go wrong.

“Need a hand?” a Boston accent asked.

She turned her gaze to a young man who had raven hair spilling out from under a well-worn, grey beanie, that was cut into the shape of a crown. He had a full lips, eyes the color of the pine trees in her backyard in Riverdale, and a pair of circular glasses perched on the bridge of a strong nose. He was thin, but not too thin, and Betty could just make out muscle definition underneath the heavy plaid jacket he wore. Tendrils of black ink crept over his collarbones, which was revealed by the soft-looking grey scoop neck shirt he wore. He had on dark wash jeans over long legs, and a pair of black motorcycle boots. He raised an eyebrow at her and his lips turned into a smirk at her obvious inattention to his question.

“Oh, uh, yes, please, that would be so nice,” Betty said, stumbling over her words. He wordlessly took the tutu from her hand and the duffle from her shoulder.

“Let me hail you a cab,” he said.

“No, no, I got it, I was gonna call an Uber,” she said.

He again smirked at her, shifted the tutu and bag to the same arm and placed two fingers in his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. A cab turned the corner and slowed to a stop in front of the struggling ballerina and her roughish counterpart.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I’m running so late, and the Metro is just a mess.”

“The Metro is always a mess,” he said in a lighthearted tone as he placed her things in the backseat of the cab. “245 Secaucus Road,” he told the cab driver.

“How did you know…?” she asked, trailing off the end of her question, when he pointed to the American Ballet Theater insignia on her bag, “Oh.” She climbed into the cab and he shut the door behind her.

She rolled down the window and called out to him as he began walking down the road.

“Wait, what’s your name? I owe you one!” she said.

“You’ll see me around. Have a good day, Betty,” he called over his shoulder and the cab pulled into traffic.

Betty sat back in her seat and rolled up the window. How did he know her name? She reached over to her duffle, but there was nothing on it that said her name. Was she wearing a nametag? Maybe he was a reporter, he kind of looked like a reporter. She sighed and leaned her head up against the window, watching the cab race through the downtown traffic.

The mysterious stranger made her day just a little bit better.

***

Betty loved the feeling of pointe shoes. The soft satin of the ribbons contrasted with the firmness of the box that her toes rested upon. She loved the sound of them, as she ran across the studio floor, or did ront de jambs at the barre. Chic and Polly had chipped in and bought her first pair when she joined their level at the studio, and those shoes proudly hung above the mantle of her fireplace in her Brooklyn two bedroom apartment.

She got to the studio, minutes before the first practice. Placing her things in the locker room, Betty stripped out of her outerwear. Underneath she wore a pair of pink seamed tights over a navy blue leotard. She retrieved her gauzy, black wrap skirt from her duffle bag, along with two pairs of pointe shoes, toe protectors, bandaids, lambs’ wool, canvas ballet shoes, and her water bottle.

She pushed open the door to the main studio and was met with silence. She hadn’t realized that this was an all company rehearsal and she seemed to be the last one in the room. Every dancer’s eyes were on her as she stepped shyly into the room.

“Ah, Ms. Cooper,” a gray haired woman in her mid-fifties called from across the room. “Rough morning?”

Betty chuckled to herself and crossed the room with the grace that was only known to the Cooper children. “Just a tad, I apologize for being so late.”

“Nonsense, today is a formality,” the woman replied. “Everyone, this is Elizabeth Cooper, our newest principal dancer.”

“I prefer Betty,” Betty said, addressing the woman, and trying to block out the snickers from a few girls in the back.

“Betty it is then. I’m Susan, the Principal Ballet Mistress. I’ll be conducting the company class today.”

Betty nodded and scanned the room for the redheaded dancer. She spotted her against the wall with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the street. Betty half jogged to the empty place at a barre in front of Cheryl Blossom, another principal at the company, whose brother happened to be engaged to Polly.

“You’re so fucking dead,” Cheryl whisper yelled. “We were supposed to get coffee together.”

“Cheryl, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot,” Betty said.

“You’re lucky I like you and you’re almost my sister,” Cheryl shot back.

Betty smiled over her shoulder and sat down, going through the methodical process of putting on her shoes. As she worked, Susan began explaining the course of the day. The company met for class every morning at nine, then would be split into their respective schedules for the afternoon. The spring ballet would be Sleeping Beauty starring Tchaikovsky’s music, and the company had seven weeks until dead week, or the week before opening night. Betty was a part of “A” cast and would perform opening night.

“So, any questions?” Susan asked as Betty laced up her final shoe. Just then, the door to the studio swung open and in walked the handsome stranger from before.

His steps held a little more swagger than they did before and he was no longer in the same outerwear. Instead, he had on black canvas ballet shoes, opaque black tights, deep red shorts, and the same gray scoopneck as before. He had pushed up the sleeves of the shirt which revealed two full sleeves of tattoos. His unruly curls were pulled back into a small top knot.

“Mr. Jones, so nice of you to join us,” Susan said in a clipped tone.

“Sorry, Susan. I had to help a damsel in distress this morning. Set me back a bit,” Mr. Jones said, glancing around the room before catching Betty’s eye and winking.

Betty felt her cheeks heat up as he spoke. She was not a damsel, she could take care of herself. Just who did this very cute boy think he was?

“Well, please join the rest of the company. We’re about to begin.”

“Mr. Jones” leisurely walked across the room and stood directly across from Betty. He bends down and Betty can feel her face heat up again. When he stands up, he lets his eyes rake over her body before winking at her again. He’s flirting with her, in front of the entire company!

The pianist begins to play the plie music and Betty tries desperately hard to focus on the routine, but she can’t seem to shake the feeling that “Mr. Jones” is watching her every move. She works harder than she has before at the barre, and is covered in a light sheen of sweat by the end of tendus. Her muscles are quaking and she can see that “Mr. Jones” is trying to show off too.

She somehow miraculously makes it through the barre routines and into the center part of class, where “Mr. Jones” taking it upon himself to stand entirely too close to her. Susan teaches them an abridged adagio, before letting the pianist take over the music. Betty recognizes it as the Rose Adagio from Sleeping Beauty, something that she will have to dance very soon. The music is truly beautiful.

Within moments of listening to the opening bars of the piano, Betty is calmer than she’s been all class. Her group steps out into the center of the floor, and Betty lets her training take over. Her arms move through the port de bras and into the first develope, moving from effacee to derriere. She closes her working leg behind her and transitions into a pas de bourree before turning with her leg extended in arabesque. She brings her leg through before circling her arms through fifth position and returning her feet to their starting position. Her group goes on to complete the second side of the exercise, before running off to the sides of the room so the next group can complete the exercise. Susan gives Betty a large smile before counting in the next group.

Betty gulps down her water and watches the next group, which contains “Mr. Jones”.

He moves with raw power that is uncontained. Betty has watched plenty of male dancers, hell, Chic is one of the best of this generation, but “Mr. Jones” is something else. If he’s not a principal, he should be. His strength in each pose is only rivaled by the grace of the movements that he completes. It’s as if he is a deadly ballet assassin, executing each position with uncomparable power.

Betty leans over to Cheryl and whispers, “Who is that?!”

“Him?” she asks, in regards to “Mr. Jones.” “Oh, that’s just Jughead. He was promoted to principal last year.”

Wait, that’s Jughead Jones? Sure, Betty has heard of him. He’s the “bad boy” of ballet with his tattoos and tragic backstory. Well, it’s supposedly tragic. Betty has never heard it. Jason, Cheryl’s brother, never really had anything great to say about Jughead. They had been soloists at the San Francisco Ballet together years ago, and he always complained that Jughead was a pompous asshole who showed off during class and was always putting his partners at risk.

To be honest, Betty thought Jason was kind of a pompous asshole, but that was besides the point. The point was that Jughead Jones was dancing in front of her, and Betty had never been taken aback by the beauty of a ballerina before. Yet here she was, staring at Jughead like he had hung the sun, the moon, and the stars.

“Stop staring, you’re making me sick,” Cheryl said, pushing her almost sister-in-law in the shoulder.

Betty ducked her head and went back to drinking from her water bottle, sneaking glances at the raven-haired boy who danced so beautifully in front of her.

***

Betty isn’t sure how she got through the rest of class. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of a certain ballerina and her body was on autopilot. The next thing she knew, the whole class was clapping for the pianist and people were gathering their things.

“B? You okay?” Cheryl asked.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired.” Betty said.

“If I danced like you just did, I would be too,” a gravely, low voice came from behind her.

Betty whipped around to see Jughead leaning up against the barre, smirking at her.

“Oh yeah?” Betty asked, the words sounding small coming from her.

“Yep. Ready for round two, Cooper?” he challenged.

“Round two?” she asked, meekly.

He laughed and stalked out of the studio, throwing a smile over his shoulder.

“What’s round two?” Betty demanded, turning to Cheryl.

“Principal practice? Were you not listening to Susan earlier?” Cheryl asked.

 _Fuck_.

“Yeah, I was,” Betty replied, uneasy.

“Okay, good,” Cheryl said with a laugh. “Cause your new crush?”

“He’s not my…” Betty protests.

“He’s dancing the part of Prince Florimund.”

 _Fuck_.


	2. Le Petit Changement

_Ballet’s Bad Boy_

_Cosmopolitan Advice Columnist, Kevin Keller_

_I sat down with Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third on a dreary Tuesday morning. You probably know him as Jughead, and from his viral video of him dancing ballet to The Black Keys on the New York subway line. I know him as a friend of my boyfriend, so he’s practically my brother-in-law._

_He orders his coffee, black, with two shots of espresso and a egg white omelet with bell peppers, pancetta bacon, and tomatoes. He also gets a cinnamon roll to go, probably for after his ballet class. Or during. You never know with this boy._

_“So Jughead,” I start and he looks up from his omelet, “How’s the fame life.”_

_“Man, it’s crazy. Like Ellen Degeneres is calling me from L.A. to come on her show. Ellen! My sister is seriously ready to kill me because I can’t go,” he says animatedly._

_It’s true. Jughead has graced the cover of both Men’s Health and Dance Magazine this month. He just talked to Kelly Rippa and the crew over at GMA last week. I was redirected through several agents before even reaching him to set up this interview._

_“Why can’t you go?”_

_Jughead laughs and swallows some coffee before continuing. “Well, I am dancing in Sleeping Beauty for ABT which opens in six weeks, but that’s like not that big of a commitment,” he says with an eye roll._

_Ah yes, Sleeping Beauty. Arguably one of the hardest ballets ever performed and the American Ballet Theater’s spring performance._

_“Give me the details, Jughead. How’s that Ms. Betty Cooper?”_

_I might be seeing things, but I think Jughead blushed a little when I mentioned his dance partner’s name. The world would never know if I didn’t ask._

_“Do I sense that someone has a crush?”_

_Jughead laughs a deep and throaty laugh._

_“No, no, no. Betty is a great friend and an even better dancer. I’m just in awe that I get to spend time with such an amazing and talented dancer every week.”_

_“Uh huh, Jug. De Nile is not just a river in Egypt.”_

_He laughs again._

_“Alright Keller, let’s get down to the real stuff.”_

_Let’s indeed._

***

**6 Weeks Until Opening Night**

“No, Polly, I really cannot come and look for dresses this weekend,” Betty said in the general direction of her phone’s speaker. Speakerphone really made her daily wedding phone calls with her sister bearable.

“Cheryl’s coming. And you’re my sister!” Polly complained into the phone.

Betty rolled her eyes and looked over at her roommate, Veronica, who was currently using their kitchen island as her personal stretching barre and listening in on the blonde’s conversation. Betty waved her cereal spoon in the direction of Ronnie’s foot, and the brunette removes her leg from the counter.

“Are you even listening to me B?” Polly asks.

“Hmmm? No, sorry, Ronnie decided to turn the kitchen into a ballet studio.”

“Whatever, B.” Polly says, sounding tearful.

“No, Pol, come on, don’t do this.” Betty hears sniffles over the phone and her sister clearing her throat.

“I just really can’t Polly. Rehearsals are killing me and I’m really struggling with the routine.”

“What’s distracting you? You never ever struggle with routines unless you’re distracted,” Polly asks.

Betty is quiet, but her roommate? Not so much. 

“JUGHEAD JONES!” Ronnie screams as she leans over the counter to steal a bite of Betty's cereal. 

Polly is quiet on the other end of the phone for a beat and Betty sends Ronnie the most scalding look she can muster.

“Jughead? The one who used to dance with Jason?” Polly asks.

“Yeah that one,” Betty says.

“Betty, I would be careful. He doesn’t sound like a nice guy. And Jason has never had good things to say about him. And those tattoos...and,” Polly goes on and Betty begins to drown her out.

Betty sighs and glares again in Veronica’s direction. She knew this would happen: her sister would turn into a worrying Alice Cooper in an instance and demand information about Betty’s new partner.

“Pol, I’m fine, honestly. Jughead is a good guy and a great partner.”

“But Betty, he has a really scary past, and...”

“Polly, I’m a grown adult. I can take care of myself. I have rehearsal soon. I have to go,” Betty calls over her sister’s rambling. “I love you.”

“I love you Betty too, I’m just looking out for you. Have a good rehearsal,” Polly says and Betty disconnects the call.

She then turns on her roommate.

“Thanks for that, V.”

“Hey! I’m not the one who went all witch-hunty on you. Your crush is just adorable.”

Betty rolls her eyes, slurps up the last bit of her cereal and storms off to her room, Veronica’s laugh following her all the way down the hall.

***

Her chest is heaving and sweat is pouring down her back and making her leo stick to her in the most uncomfortable way. People were not joking when they said that the Rose Adagio was the hardest piece to learn in ballet. Her feet were killing her, her arms felt like dead weights, and her mind was preoccupied with remembering the choreography.

“You okay Betty?” Reggie asked her through heavy breaths and she choked down water.

Betty glanced over at him and nodded her head. Reggie was dancing the part of one of her suitors for the Rose Adagio and was a constant source of encouragement and laughter. Just yesterday, she had collapsed to the floor after rehearsals and determined that she would not and could not go on. Reggie laughed, pulled her up, threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and paraded her around the company studios.

“This ballerina quits! We shall roast her over the open flames!” Reggie called out to anyone who would hear him, while Betty struggled against laughter and his grip.

He finally let her down outside of the female locker room, ruffled her hair, gave her a wink and sauntered away, as if nothing had ever happened.

“You look like you’re dying out there,” Reggie asks, concern flooding into his tone and bringing Betty back to the present.

“I am,” Betty complains and Reggie reaches over to wrap an arm around her.

“You can do it. Only fifteen more minutes.”

“Of hell,” Betty mutters and Reggie laughs before pushing her into the middle of the studio.

“Again from the piqués!” Susan calls across the room.

Betty sighs and takes her place facing the suitors. This part is easy. It’s a chassé, piquée pirouette en dehors, and developé; four in a row, one right after another. She has to add a reach at the end to take a rose from each suitor, but right now, she’s more concerned about the steps right now.

Chassé.

Piquée pirouette en dehors.

Developé.

Reach.

Chassé.

Piquée pirouette en dehors.

Developé.

Reach.

Chassé.

Piquée pirouette en dehors.

Developé.

Reach.

Chassé.

And just as Betty is doing her final piquée pirouette en dehors, her supporting ankle rolls and she falls out of the turn. Reggie’s arm reaches out and grabs her wrist before she topples over. He pulls her onto his knee but Betty isn’t aware of this. All she’s aware of is the pain in her right ankle and Susan’s shocked gasp from across the room.

Reggie’s mouth is moving slowly, asking her questions, but Betty’s mind is blocking him out and running at a hundred miles a minute.

_Did she break her ankle?_

_Can she move it?_

_What will Alice think?_

_Oh god, Alice is gonna kill her._

_She’s not even gonna make it to her first show._

_Her ballet career is over._

_Oh my god._

_Oh my god._

“Betty!” Reggie yells, scaring her out of her panic.

Her breath is shallow, her eyes begin to fill up with tears as she glances down at her ankle and then back up at Reggie.

“Betty, breathe. Okay?” She nods and takes a deep breath.

“Okay, good, another.” She breathes deeply again.

“Awesome Betty. Keep doing that.”

Reggie lowers her to the ground and she pulls her knees up around her and continues the deep breathing. Susan comes over to kneel by the blonde ballerina.

“Betty, are you okay?”

Betty's voice is shaky when she answers. “I, uh, think so.”

“Alright, practice is over. Reggie, would you please take Betty to Fred?” Susan calls out to the male dancer.

“Yeah, Susan, I can,” Reggie replies. “We’ll take you to Dr. Fred. He can take a look, alright?” Reggie asks Betty and she nods along.

Reggie helps her stand, and puts an arm underneath hers to help support her on the way to the physical therapy office. Moose, another dancer, grabs her things and quietly follows them.

“Good ole Betty Cooper, making a fool of herself in rehearsal and causing a shit load of drama,” Reggie playfully tells her.

Betty manages a small smile but is more concentrated on her ankle than Reggie’s jokes. They finally make it to Fred’s office (after multiple stops along the way when Betty rests), where the graying doctor helps her sit up on the exam table.

“So, tell me what happened Ms. Cooper,” Fred asks, as he passes a glass of water to the dancer.

Betty gratefully accepts the water and takes a drink before continuing. 

“I think I just rolled it but I’m not sure,” Betty replies, voice still shaky from the accident.

“Alright, sweetie, let’s get you checked out,” Fred says with a smile.

***

Betty is enjoying one of Fred’s countless tales about his son, Archie, when none other than Jughead Jones races into the room. Betty’s laugh dies in her throat as she looks at his disheveled and sweaty appearance. He was in rehearsal with Cheryl this afternoon and must have rushed over after it ended. He comes to stand next to the exam table, and begins to ask a million questions.

“Are you okay? Chuck told me what happened! Is it broken? Do you feel okay? Can I get you anything?” Betty laughs and looks up at her partner.

“I’m okay Juggie,” she answers. “I just rolled it. Fred says I should be good to go within a couple of days.”

He looks taken aback when she calls him Juggie, but a soft smile creeps into his features. He quickly replaces it with his usual frown as she continues.

“Don’t worry, Jug,” Fred says from behind his desk. “I am taking great care of your partner.”

“That he is,” Betty responds, Jughead’s attention turning back to her. “He’s also telling me some stories of a young Archie and Jughead?”

Jughead groans and hides his face in his hands.

“Fred, you didn’t.”

The older man laughs and turns back to his work.

“Oh, yes, yes I did.”

“He specifically mentioned a story about you forgetting your tights one day for practice…” Betty trails off and Jughead groans again.

Betty and Fred laugh loudly and Betty is graced with another rare Jughead Jones smile. He takes a seat on the edge of the exam table and takes her hand into his.

“But seriously, are you okay?” he asks.

She squeezes his hand and smiles. “Yeah, Juggie, I’m gonna be fine.”

***

“So there I am, standing in my fucking underwear in the dead winter in Boston, arabesquing in three feet of snow all because Archie has a fucking crush on the photographer,” Jughead tells her with a laugh and she can’t help but laugh back.

Fred’s been gone for hours and Jughead took it upon himself to order Thai from a place around the corner. They’re sitting in the main studio, sharing a pad thai and egg rolls, and Betty can’t think of a time or place where she would rather be. Music is playing softly in the background and Jughead’s smile is warm, his laughter infectious, his stories animate. An ice pack rests on her elevated ankle, but she hasn’t thought about it in hours, Jughead’s liveliness taking over her life.

“It must have been great to grow up with someone like Archie,” Betty says.

“Yeah,” Jughead says with a smile. “He’s my brother. I don’t know where I would be without the Andrews family. Not here, that’s for damn sure.”

He takes another bite of an egg roll and Betty weighs options in her mind. She could press and ask the brooding ballerina more about his past or she could enjoy the stories he’s told her so far. If she presses, he could reject her, and push her away, and that’s not what she wants. She has enjoyed spending all this alone time with him and doesn’t want to ruin it.

But still...his past, it’s something Betty wants to know about.

“I can see the wheels turning, Betty,” Jughead says to her, removing her from her internal conflict. “What’s up?”

Betty blushes, “It’s nothing. Just thinking.”

Jughead smirks at her and finishes the last bit of pad thai.

“Alright Cooper, let me know when I need to be clued in.”

Betty smiles and gathers her garbage and goes to stand to toss it, but Jughead takes the items from her before she can even move.

“I got it,” he says quietly and walks over to the trash can.

As Jughead walks back, a song comes over the speakers and Betty recognizes it as the one that he danced to in the subway.

“Hey what’s this song called?” Betty asks as Jughead turns it up.

“‘Your Touch’ by The Black Keys,” he responds with a sly smile.

_And I want_

_And you got it_

_So much_

_I'm crazy for_

_Your touch_

Betty watches the raven-haired boy gather his things and wonders why he chose this song. It’s not something that she would listen to, but she can’t help connect with the lyrics. She craving the raven-haired dancer’s touch, so much so that she can’t think about anything else.

“Why did you choose this song for your subway debut?” she asks him jokingly.

_And I'll be good_

_Like I should_

_Waitin' is such_

_Misery! I need_

_Your touch_

“Let’s just say, I wanted a certain person to know that I’m interested in them,” Jughead replied.

His reply was easy, confident and said in a way that shook Betty and screamed to open her fucking eyes because Jughead Jones, principal dancer of the American Ballet Theater, was into her.

_A little louder now_

_I've got to shout it now_

_Please rush I need_

_Your touch!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on the last chapter! I was so excited to read all the comments. The song for this chapter is "Your Touch" by the Black Keys. 
> 
> Also, here is a video for the Rose Adagio. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTkIyYMP27c) The Sleeping Beauty ballet is one of the most beautiful, and you can find full length ballets on Youtube. The part where Betty is injured is at the 5 minute mark. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I appreciate it so much.


	3. Le Grand Geste

PRIMAS <3

_(includes Cheryl Blossom, Veronica Lodge, and you)_

**So, how was practice? Private practice with  
a Jughead Jones?**

_Seen by everyone_

**Cheryl, I am injured but....**

**He likes me....**

_Seen by everyone_

_Veronica loved this_

**OMG B NO WAY**

**GET IT GIRL**

_Seen by everyone_

**He wants to go on a date next weekend.**

_Seen by Cheryl_

**Did you say yes?**

**Do you like him?**

_Seen by Betty_

**Yes, Cheryl, I like him.**

**I am a person with eyes.**

**And I said yes.**

_Seen by everyone_

**Sorry guys, I just died of excitement over the fact that Betty  
is gonna get dicked.**

**What did I miss?**

_Seen by everyone_

**Shut up V.**

**I'll be home soon**

_Seen by everyone_

**I'm coming and bringing wine.**

_Seen by Veronica_

**YAAAASSSSS**

_Seen by everyone_

 

***

4 Weeks Till Opening Night

“So do I get to know where we’re going, or is it a surprise?” Betty asks Jughead as the subway jostles them as it speeds along through the tunnel.

She’s sitting and he’s leaning up against the metal bar in front of her, looking cool and casual as always. He’s got the same crown beanie, round glasses and motorcycle boots on as he did the first time she saw him, but this time he has on a forest green sweater under a well-worn black leather jacket. He’s also wearing black pants that are molded against his lithe frame and leave little to Betty’s wandering imagination.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a cocky smile. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?”

She blushes under his gaze, but yes he’s already told her twice; once when she opened the apartment door and was greeted by him and a bouquet of yellow gardenias and white ranunculus; and once while they were waiting for the train to breeze through the platform. Veronica insisted on dressing her for her date, demanding that Betty wear something other than tights, a leo and leg warmers for once. She had forced Betty against her will into a deep purple sweater dress that was a little too big on her frame and a pair of thigh-high black boots with gold heels. Ronnie also leant her a tan duster and thick oatmeal colored scarf.

Ronnie said she looked hot, but Jughead said she looked beautiful, so who was really winning here?

“You’ve told me that twice,” Betty says looking up at him.

“Well that’s not nearly enough,” Jughead says with a wink.

She relaxes back into her seat and watches the underground rush by. Jughead whistles a tune underneath his breath and drums his fingers against the pole. She half expects him to start plieing along to the music in his head but he just sends a smile her way.

“Eighty-first street, this stop is eighty-first street,” the unseen conductor of the C Train calls.

Jughead grabs her arm and drags her off of the train when the doors open, out and into the frosty air of New York City. Betty recognizes where they’re at and throws a side glance at Jughead.

“Really? Central Park? In March?”

He laughs. “No, Betts, it’s just a detour. Come on.”

They walk silently together, admiring the beauty of the park, their fingers brushing past each other every so often.

Then she sees their destination.

“The Met?! I’ve wanted to go since I moved here but with rehearsals and everything, it’s been really hard to find time,” she says, excitedly.

He chuckles as she grasps his hand and all but practically drags him up the steps of the museum and to the ticket counter.

***

The ballerina in the front is helping her brown-haired counterpart fluff a tutu, while the rest of the class bustles around them. A ballerina with a blue ribbon is perfecting a attitude in the middle of the studio, while her instructor looks on. Mothers gather at the far side of the room, demanding that their daughters are seen next.

“The Dance Class” by Edgar Degas is very much a situation that Betty has been in before. She sits in front of the painting, staring wide-eyed at the beauty and the chaos made out of the oil and canvas. She’s hardly aware of Jughead next to her as she takes in the painting. It makes her a little sad and a little upset, when it really should make her feel happy. But as she sits in front of the painting, she feels the need to tell someone her story with the painting.

“I remember when I was little, I didn’t want to be a dancer,” Betty started out and could feel Jughead’s gaze land on her. “Chic was one, and Polly was one, and I just didn’t want to be like them. I wanted to quit when I was six. But my mother pushed me: she took me to ballets in the city, and she brought me here to see the Degas paintings.” She takes a deep breath and he takes her hand.

“She stood here and told me that if I was good enough, someone would immortalize me in a painting, like Degas did to these ballerinas. She told me that everyone would be able to see my beauty in a museum. That’s a lot for a six year old to handle and to take in. But it convinced me. I wanted to be in a painting, so I continued.”

“Polly and Chic were always the ones who stood up to her. I wasn’t that strong. She was so awful to me when I was little, and about the stupidest things. My weight was her biggest issue, but she would critique me after every class about my plies, or how I pointed my toes, or how I extended an arabesque.”

“There’s a reason why Polly and Chic bought me my first pointe shoes; it was because my mother thought I was too fat to be a ballerina and that I didn’t deserve it. She wanted to pull me out of classes because I was a disgrace for my weight. Her words still haunt me and while I try not to listen to her anymore, she sometimes sneaks into my head.”

“Is that where the scars on your palms are from?” Jughead asks softly.

“How did you know?” Betty asks, fingers instinctively curling in.

“Betty, I hold your hand like eighty percent of the time in class.”

This is a true fact. His hands are rough and smooth at the same, calloused where hers aren’t and tell a story that is much different than hers.

“Yeah, I didn’t have a way to expel any anger at myself, so I would press my nails into my palms until they bled. When I was in London with Chic, he had me see a psychologist about it. I have better ways to cope now, but when I see her, sometimes it’s hard.”

Jughead put his arm around her and tugged her closer to his side. He was warm and smelled like rain and the pine trees back home. They stayed like that for several minutes, watching the other tourists walk by, glancing at the paintings. His gravelly voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“My dad, he, uhm used to run this gang back up in Boston. It was a motorcycle gang, nothing super bad or scary. They dealt a little pot, did a little gun running, but nothing too serious,” Jughead said. “But when I was ten, my dad got arrested on my birthday. Another member had sold him out as the leader, and he’s been in prison ever since. He was a drunk, and I hated being home when he and my mom would fight and he would drink, but the prison sentencing...it still hurt.”

“Juggie,” she said softly.

“My mom did that absentee parenting thing really well, so well, she actually left me and my little sister in Boston to restart a family in San Francisco. So Fred and Archie adopted us into their family.” “

Archie had been into dancing forever, and had me go to one of his classes, and I don’t know, I just fell in love. Here I was, my entire life surrounded by violence and darkness, and Archie was introducing me to this world of light. My anger at my family powered my passion for dancing, and that’s something that hasn’t changed.”

“I know it’s been fifteen years, and Jellybean has gotten over it, but I just can’t. Holding a grudge for that long does something to someone,” he said, finishing his story quietly.

Betty is silent and studies Jughead’s face. His forehead is creased and he looks older for a moment. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, she decides and she wants nothing more than to make it go away.

“I guess we’re both a little broken,” she says after a few moments.

“Everyone’s got shit, Betty. That’s just the way the world is,” he replies.

She smiles a little at his honesty and then goes to stand. She then reaches down to take his hand and they walk away from the painting.

“Can we come back?” she asks timidly.

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

***

He takes her to The Monkey Bar for dinner (where she gets revenge on him buying her Met tickets and grabs the check before he does) and then they walk the ten blocks to Grand Central Terminal.

“I used to come here when I first came to New York,” Jughead tells Betty as they settle into benches. “The reunions that people have are almost poetic. I wish I could tell their stories.”

Betty smiles. “Why not? I’m sure you could choreograph something really beautiful.”

“Thanks, Betts. There’s always dancers here too, doing some kind of pop-up shows.”

Her eyes light up as he speaks, watching a crowd part and a group of teenagers put down a boombox and get ready to perform. A fun, pop song blasts through the stereo and Betty watches with fascination as the kids do a really well choreographed danced. Jughead bounces his knee along to the beat and looks on at Betty, who is entranced.

The kids remind Betty of the times and the dances that she and her siblings used to make-up. No one was judging them if they messed up. They were just having fun.

“Juggie? When did I lose that excitement and fun?” Betty asks.

Jughead glances at his blonde counterpart. “You didn’t lose it. It just became less important.”

Betty sighs. “How do I get it back?”

“Like this,” Jughead says as he pulls her to her feet and the music changes to something that Betty recognizes. Jughead lazily spins her under his arm and they begin to dance to the music. It’s upbeat and Jughead croons along to the singer. “

You're the fire and the flood and I'll always feel you in my blood. Everything is fine when your hand is resting next to mine, next to mine. You're the fire and the flood.”

He extends his arm to her and she begins the variation of their pas de deux that they learned the day before. He notices her movements and quickly joins in, supporting her in the turns and lifting her through the leaps. They just learned the fish drive portion of the dancer, where Betty does a pique arabesque, brings her leg through retire, does a triple pirouette Jughead catches her at the end, then maneuvers her body into a poisson or fish dive.

With the song in the background, they move slower than they normally would and Betty feels a trust between the two of them that wasn’t there yesterday during rehearsals. Maybe it was their heart-to-heart. Maybe it was the fact that Betty was falling hard and fast for her tattooed partner. Maybe it was the fact that the stars were aligned or that some mythical being was pulling the strings. But Betty knew that she didn’t want to be anywhere but here, in Jughead’s arms, at that very moment.

They begin to attract quite a crowd with her piques and his high jumps and when the music ends, the crowd erupts in applause. Betty’s laughing and smiling so hard she thinks that her face might be frozen that way. Jughead pulls her under his arm and looks down at her, and she wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss him. She glances down to his lips and then back up to his eyes and feels herself leaning into his body. Will his lips be soft or hard? Smooth? They’re inches apart and she feels his breath ghosting over her lips and she hears it.

“Hi, are you Jughead Jones?” a soft voice asks. She turns and sees one of the teenagers from before.

“Yeah, I am,” Jughead answers, wary of the teenagers.

“You’re my idol. I want to be a professional dancer so much. I’m Micah,” the boy says.

“Oh shit, nice to meet you man,” Jughead says, shaking Micah’s hand.

“Can you guys take a selfie with us?” Micah asks.

Jughead looks to Betty, who has a small smile on her face. She nods, and Jughead takes Micah’s phone. The teenagers gather around the two and Jughead snaps the picture.

They take a few more pictures with the bystanders before Jughead takes her hand a leads her from the station. They step out into the cold, March night, and Jughead grabs her hand. She smiles at him and they continue their way down the street. They make it a little down the block before Betty is suddenly crowded against a brick wall. Jughead’s arms bracket her smaller frame and she can just make out his face in the dimming light. She sucks in a breath and looks up into his sea green eyes, blinking slowly as if she can find out what he’s thinking.

“If I knew any better, I would say that you were trying to kiss me back there, Ms. Cooper,” he says in a sly voice.

“Good thing you don’t know any better,” Betty said confidently, before connecting their lips underneath the clear March sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I appreciate all the comments and love this story has been getting!
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Fire and the Flood" by Vance Joy. 
> 
> If you haven't seen Degas's "The Dance Class", here's the link to the Met website (http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/438817). Degas's work is amazing and I'm so lucky to live near the Art Institute of Chicago and be able to see his work. Art is so amazing and if you've never been to a museum, I highly suggest it!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	4. Le Gros Probléme

 

 

> _Veronica attached one image._
> 
> __
> 
> **Trivia and Manhattans on me.**
> 
> _Seen by everyone._
> 
> _Archie Andrews, Cheryl Blossom, and Kevin Keller liked this message._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ***

**22 Days Until Opening Night**

 

Betty Cooper found herself sitting in a bar on a Thursday night, nursing a Manhattan, watching Veronica and Cheryl twist and turn on the dance floor. They had dragged her bruised, sore ass out after a very long day at rehearsals, insisting that the place around the corner had the best poke and trivia that New York City could offer. She begrudgingly went along only because she would never hear the end of it and she really, really, really needed a drink.

So here she was, three Manhattans in, pleasantly buzzed, watching her drunk friends dance and the clock at the same time. She was counting down the minutes until she could go home, soak in a bubble bath and watch Game of Thrones. But then he decided to walk in.

Jughead Jones.

The man who somehow took away her breath every goddamn time she saw him. He looked out of his comfort zone as his redheaded friend (who Betty could only assume was Archie Andrews) dragged him into the bar. They were followed by two men holding hands: one was tall and wore a plaid button down tucked into tan pants and the other was shorter than him and had shoulder-length dark hair and a motorcycle jacket on.

Betty watched Jughead gaze around the bar at its patrons until his eyes landed on her. She recrossed her legs underneath his gaze and smoothed a hand over the olive green faux turtleneck shirt Veronica had insisted that she wear. She met his eyes and he sent a wink her way.

They hadn’t had any alone time since their date on Saturday, and Betty knew her body was craving his touch again. They had a fundraiser on Sunday night for the company and all Betty wanted to do was jump his bones. Practice had kept them apart all week, but Betty would soon have his undivided attention. Rehearsal for the pas de deux would begin the next day, and go every day until opening night. But that was too far away. Betty wanted him now.

Their kiss, it was like fire. It was like learning the part to Habanero in _Carmen_. The dancer must create passion for they are the only ones on stage. The music is fast and soft and strange and new and passionate, all the things that Betty felt when she kissed Jughead for the first time. She could stay there all night, pressed up against the brick of the terminal, in his arms, in their own little world.

And now here he was, looking like sin personified, with tousled hair and dark, brooding eyes. He crossed the room in a matter of seconds and leaned against the bar in front of her. He reached into her drink, plucking out the cherry near the bottom and placing it on his tongue. The pink muscle licked the whiskey off of his fingers in a sensual way and Betty wasn’t even sure if she was breathing at this point.

“My stars, if it isn’t Betty Cooper, sitting in a bar on a Thursday night,” he said with mock southern kindness.

Betty rolled her eyes at his statement and slammed back the rest of her drink, while Jughead looked on in appreciation.

He then glanced over at the bartender, “I’ll have two more of what she’s having.”

The bartender nodded and quickly made work of two more Manhattans. The drinks were slid down to them and Jughead handed Betty hers.

“To a hellish, hungover rehearsal tomorrow,” he says clinking their glasses.

“It shouldn’t be too hellish,” Betty says with a smirk, alcohol fueling her courage. “You’ll be putting your hands all over my body, get to see me sweat and bend over and be inches away from me and the worst part will be that you can’t even kiss me.”

Jughead almost spits out his drink.

Game.

Set.

Match.

“Jug, who’s your friend?” a voice asks from over Jughead’s shoulder, and Betty recognizes him as one of the people who came in with Jughead earlier.

“Uh, um, Betty this is Joaquin, my best friend, and his boyfriend, Kevin. Kevin and Joaquin, this is Betty. My partner at work,” Jughead stumbles.

“The infamous Betty Cooper?” Kevin asks with a growing smile.

“That’s me,” Betty says, eyeing Jughead’s distressed face. “What’s Juggie got to say about me when I’m not around?”

Joaquin and Kevin share a glance before Joaquin speaks. “Lots of things...come chat.”

Betty jumps off of her stool with a giggle and stands on her toes to place a lingering kiss on Jughead’s cheek before following the men onto the floor.

“This isn’t over Cooper!” she hears from behind her.

She sends a flirtatious wink over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

***

Kevin and Joaquin, as it turns out, didn’t have much to say about their brooding counterpart. Mostly it was similar to a “white, Southern father with a shotgun” speech.

“You hurt him and I will end your career, okay?” Kevin asks, with too much smile and cheerfulness.

Betty laughs and nods. “Got it.”

They turn their attention back to the music and the thumping bass. Betty dances with Joaquin and Kevin for a while before dancing over to Ronnie and Cheryl. The three danced together, laughing at each other’s moves and eyeing up other guys on the floor. Archie joins Veronica and the two slowly breakaway from the redhead and the blonde, immersed in their own world.

The beat turns to something a little more sensual and slower and Betty sways her hips in a way that she knows makes her looks like a goddess. She runs a hand through her long hair, lifting it off her neck in hopes to cool her down.

She glances over her shoulder as she circles her hips, looking for her obsidian-haired partner. He’s leaning against the bar, lust clouding his expression, slowly sipping a drink. She bites her lip and rolls her body again, not breaking eye contact. He sets his drink down and pushes off the bar, stalking towards the blonde. Betty finishes the drink in her hand and passes the glass wordlessly to Cheryl before going to meet Jughead.

“Putting on a show for me?” he asks when she reaches him.

“Would you like that?” Betty asks, looping her arms around his neck and pulling her warm body flush against his.

He places his hands on her lower back as Betty sways against him, moving them up and down ever so slightly.

“More than anything, Betty Cooper,” he says honestly.

She grinds back into his hands and parts her mouth slightly, looking at him underneath her lashes. She’s playing a dangerous game here and she’s waiting to see who will crack first. He grips her hips so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if there were bruises there tomorrow. His tongue darts out and he licks his lips, making them shine in the neon. His pupils are blown, and his hair disheveled and Betty can’t stop her mind from wandering to places.

His hands move up her body to cup her face and he leans in slowly before placing his lips on hers. Her eyelids flutter close as her heart speeds up. His lips are chapped just a little and one hand moves to her hair to grip it. Her tongue snakes out and swipes across his lips and he opens his mouth to let it enter. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes and she is even more drunk on his kisses. They break away and are both breathing heavy and Jughead looks her directly in the eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests and Betty is perfectly happy with that decision.

***

Sunlight streams through a window and Betty snuggles deeper into the sheets, clinging to the last hopes of sleep. The bed is warm and smells like the salty sea, and is most definitely not hers.

She shoots up, eyes flying open and glancing around the unfamiliar room. It’s light and airy, with light colored wood furniture, a dresser opposite the bed and two nightstands. A mirror is leaning against the wall and gauzy white curtains float in the breeze coming from the open window. There’s a framed Jackson Pollock print on the wall and familiar motorcycle boots by the door.

She remembers leaving the bar with Jughead but not much else after that. She glances at the clock on the table and sighs. She doesn’t need to be at practice for another two hours. She almost buries herself deep back down into the tangle of blankets, but the smell of coffee beckons her from beyond the door.

She stands and takes in her attire. A large, faded, David Bowie concert teeshirt covers her body and makeup is smudged on her face. She turns and makes her way to the ensuite bathroom. She makes quick work of washing her face and someone taming her tresses before exiting the bedroom and walking silently along the hall. She comes into a large living room with high ceilings and sunlight streaming through bright windows. A spiral staircase leads upward to two more closed doors and a patio area.

Betty recognizes John Lennon’s voice singing softly from a kitchen where Jughead is sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. She comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his center and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Jughead says with a laugh.

“Mmm, is that coffee?” Betty asks, placing a kiss behind the shell of his ear.

“In the pot,” he nods and she unravels from him and crosses the kitchen, grabbing the empty mug next to the maker.

She sips slowly from the cup, leaning against the counter, eyeing him and the apartment around her.

“This place is beautiful,” she remarks and he nods at her statement.

“Yeah, Joaquin hit it big with _Kinky Boots_ last year. He and Kevin own the apartment, and Archie and I just rent from them.”

That’s where she recognized Joaquin from. She couldn’t place her finger on it the night before, but now it totally made sense.

They sit in silence for a few moments before she asks the question that’s been on her mind.

“What happened last night?”

Jughead laughs and takes a sip of his coffee.

“You passed out in the Uber and I had to carry you all the way up here. I slept on the couch, which made for a great conversation when Archie stumbled in at 4 AM with a brunette who knows you?”

Betty’s eyes go wide at the thought of Ronnie also being here.

“She didn’t stay, don’t worry,” Jughead says while chuckling again.

She sips from her coffee again, when a knock is heard at the front door. Jughead stands up, stretches, so Betty can see the “V” of his hips and shuffles to answer the door. He winks at her just before he opens the door.

“Jug!” she hears someone say from the hallway in a distinct Boston accent.

She freezes and waits for Jughead’s reply.

“Dad, hi.”

***

Jughead was unfocused. Betty could tell this from across the studio. His expression was angry, undoubtedly clouded by the morning conversation with his father.

His father, who upon recently, had been an inmate at the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center in Massachusetts with charges of “possession with the intent to distribute”, “drug paraphernalia”, “conspiracy to sell/distribute black market weapons”, and “aiding and abetting”. His original sentence had been twenty-five years, but had been shortened to ten with parole on “good behavior.”

FP, as he preferred to be called, was visiting New York City for the day to meet up with his son and take him out to breakfast, before heading into Jersey to look for an apartment.

If the two had been walking down a street, Betty wouldn’t know that they were father and son. Sure, they had the same shock of dark hair on their heads, and similar downturned scowls, but that was where the differences ended. FP had dark circles underneath his murky brown eyes, wide shoulders, a perpetual five o’clock shadow, and a voice that sounded like it belonged in some noir detective film. FP was a dark side to Jughead’s past, and Betty could tell that the older man may know that he was overstepping into his son’s life. A life that he was no longer a part of, according to Jughead.

“Cut the shit, dad,” Jughead said with a snap after FP had finished harmlessly flirting with Betty. “Why are you here? Why do you feel the need to insert yourself in my life at the most inconvenient times?”

“Damn, Jug, I can’t see you? You’re still my fucking son,” FP said.

“Fred is more of a dad than you ever were to me! Don’t go around with all that ‘son’ bullshit now.”

“You know what, forget this Jug. I don’t need this.”

“I didn’t need this shit either! I didn’t need it ten years ago when you fucking got arrested for your little boy band and mom fucking left me and Jelly! I didn’t need it when mom fucking called me multiple times ‘cause she was on a bender and you couldn’t fucking help cause you were where? Oh yeah, in fucking Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center! So fuck you dad. Or should I say FP?”

“Your mother and I didn’t raise you to talk to us this way,” FP shot back in a warning tone.  

“YOU DIDN’T FUCKING RAISE ME!”

There’s silence. Betty stares down into her coffee and contemplates leaving. She’s almost about to stand when Jughead speaks again.

“Get out,” he says, his tone turned deadly. “Go to Jersey, go to California, go to fucking Europe for all I care. Just get out.”

FP sighs and slowly stands. “Betty, it was a pleasure. Have a good day.”

FP had left the apartment and Betty had gone to collect her things, not wanting to bother the brooding dancer. Jughead was pacing angrily in the living room when she left, placing a sweet, short kiss on his lips with the promise of a chat later.

But now it was later, and Betty could feel the anger radiating off of her partner. She had watched his practice and he executed all his moves with precision. She had thought back to their date when he had told her that his dancing was fueled by his hatred towards his parents. She could see the difference between his dancing yesterday and today. She wanted to do nothing more than hug him and make the problems with his family go away, but she knew that wasn’t practical.

“Alright, pas de deux, start from the grand battement, yes?” Susan asks.

They take their spots in the back right-hand corner and Susan counts them in as the pianist begins.

Betty can already tell that this is going to be a terrible rehearsal. Jughead is gripping her wrists too hard in the battements, she’s off-position in the pirouettes and Susan is screaming corrections from the sidelines.

“Spot, spot, spot!”

“Forsythe, stop looking at Betty like you’re going to kill her!”

“Too slow!”

“Be more on that movement!”

“Mr. Jones! Wrong position!”

“Alright stop!”

Betty stops and tries to catch her breath while Susan berates them.

“Seriously? This is how my two principals act two weeks before opening night? What the hell, guys? This is a disgrace. Whatever is on your mind, forget it and focus. Leave all that other stuff outside of the studio!”

Betty glances over at Jughead and sees the same cloudy expression from before they even began. She sighs and returns to her starting position, Jughead sulking behind her.

“Again from the top, and better this time, yeah?” Susan says with determination.

They make it through the battement section and move onto the poisson dives, when Betty begins to get nervous. Jughead is so distracted and she feels like she can’t trust him in this practice. She moves through the first three steps and Jughead shifts her into the fish dive, and then the floor is way too close to her face and she’s slipping in his lax grip and she knows she’s going to fall, she can feel it.

“Jesus Christ, Jughead! You’re going to drop her!” Susan yells and Jughead snaps out of whatever mood he’s been in and immediately rights her.

The pianist stops playing and Betty takes several steps away from her partner, horrified at his actions. His emotions range from hurt to surprised to ashamed. Betty is angry, no she's pissed. Her pity that she felt for her partner earlier is gone. 

“Alright, this practice is over. Mr. Jones, I highly suggest that you figure out what’s going on before we continue,” Susan says before exiting the studio, the pianist following her.

Betty stalks over to the barre and angrily grabs her water bottle, gulping down the liquid before turning on her partner.

“Jug, where the fuck is your head right now? You almost just fucking dropped me,” she asks.

“Betty, I don’t really need this shit right now,” he says as he pushes back his hair, immediately sliding into a defensive tone.

“Well when the fuck do you need it? What’s the point of me being able to trust you if one thing pisses you off and then you’re dropping me in lifts?”

She's angry at his blasé reaction to almost dropping her. 

“So you don’t trust me now? After everything?”

“I really don’t in this moment,” Betty replies. “You almost dropped me and that’s really fucking scary okay? You’re not acting like yourself, and I’m worried.”

He steps closer to her, towering over her small frame. “Well this is the real me,” he says sarcastically spreading his arms. “I knew you were gonna turn on me like everyone else did when you saw the real me. You’re just gonna fly off the handle because I ‘almost’ dropped you. I knew it was a mistake letting you in.”

She steps back, shocked at his words. She can’t believe that he said that to her.

“Fuck you, Jughead Jones.”

“Fuck you too, Betty Cooper.”

And then he’s grabbing his things, and walking out of the studio, out of their practice, and out of her life, maybe, probably, definitely for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The song in the bar that Betty dances to is "Bom Bidi Bom" by Nick Jonas and ma girl Nicki Minaj. 
> 
> Song for this chapter is "River" by Leon Bridges.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	5. Une Apologie Parfaite

Green Farm

1098 Bedford Ave

Brooklyn, NY 11216

____________________________________________________________________________

TRANS 102                   DATE 03/04/18               TIME 9:03 PM

STORE 3                                  REG 1                            CASHIER Dave

ITEM

Ben & Jerry’s                                  4.99

00357902394

Ben & Jerry’s                                 4.99

00357902394

Ben & Jerry’s                                 4.99

00357902394

Chandon Rose                              27.99

388597010900

Mouton Cadet                               8.99

948480137819

Summer Water                             14.99

589288140833

KLEENEX                                       3.99

132845792984

**SUBTOTAL**                                   70.93

          TAX                                     6.29

          TAX TOTAL                          6.29

**TOTAL**                                          77.29

____________________________________________________________________________

MASTERCARD 77.29

************0001

Auth #: 9411G

Transaction Type: Sale

Entry Method: Dipped

Auth Time: 9:03 PM

Trace Number: 5329101293

Signature: JOAQUIN DESANTOS 

CHANGE 0.00

***

**14 Days Until Opening Night**

“Hi, you’ve reached Betty Cooper. I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the beep.”

“Betty, I’m so so so sorry for what I said to you. It wasn’t right. I uh-”

Delete.

“Hi, you’ve reached Betty Cooper. I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the beep.”

“Betty I really want to talk, no I need to talk to you. I’m a fool Elizabeth Cooper, and I’m so so-”

Delete.

“Hi, you’ve reached Betty Cooper. I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the beep.”

“Betty please pick up the phone. Please I just need to-”

Delete.

“Hi, you’ve reached Betty Cooper. I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the beep.”

“Betty, I uh, I’ve left some-”

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

“Why are you torturing yourself? Ronnie asks from the other end of the couch.

Betty buries herself deeper in her blanket burrito and sends a death glare in the direction of her roommate. She hasn’t talked to Jughead in seven days. Practice has been tense without Betty speaking to her partner, but has been better than it was last Friday. Jughead is clearly out of anger against his father but looks like a kicked puppy every time Betty glances his way.

She knows it’s because of her.

Because of their fight.

“I’m torturing myself cause I hate myself,” Betty says, scrolling through the countless messages that Jughead left her.

Her blanket is suddenly wrenched open, her phone stolen from her hand, and chucked halfway across the room.

“B, be realistic,” Ronnie says, towering over Betty with arms crossed, and a fire in her eye. “Your ‘fight’? It wasn’t that bad. And from what I can hear, he’s really fucking sorry. Has he dropped you since?”

Betty thinks back to their rehearsals. He’s been even more gentle than he was before, taking extra precautions for any lifts, or any harder moves.

“He hasn’t and I know he hasn’t. He was stressed out, angry and unfocused. You even said that yourself. Archie’s almost dropped me like four or five times at practice. Why? Because ballet is fucking hard and if you’re not paying attention, accidents happen. We get over it because in the end, I still trust him. And I know you still trust Jughead. So stop moping because it’s really over nothing. You both overreacted in an already stressful situation.”

Betty sighs and shifts in her seat, feeling uncomfortable under her friend’s gaze.

“Also, you kind of went off on him. So you’re at fault too. Am I right, or am I right?” Ronnie asks.

She’s right of course and Betty should admit that it’s also her fault. Because it is.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him tomorrow at the studio,” Betty says with another sigh.

“Thank you, B. Also, Archie won’t shut up about how mopey Jug is. Supposedly your boy is trying to drown himself in coffee and Ben & Jerry’s.”

Betty smiles and for the first time in a few days, she’s optimistic about rehearsal.

***

The text comes at six am. Betty fumbles with the light in her room, as her eyes adjust to the early morning light.

_Meet me at the Met._

It’s from Jughead.

Why would he want to meet her at the Met at six in the morning?

_Just...please come Betty._

She groans and rolls out of bed, throwing on an ABT sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and quietly sneaks out from her room. She slips on tennis shoes by the door, grabs her Metrocard and keys and walks out of her apartment, front door softly clicking behind her. The train to the Met is thankfully short but Betty is practically shaking she’s so nervous.

She treks across the green lawn at Central Park, avoiding the joggers up at the early hour. She reaches the gates of the Met and sees Kevin Keller waiting to greet her with a blindfold in one hand.

“Kevin, hi,” Betty says tentatively, remembering his warning.

“B.Coop, you are one lucky lady. I need to put this on you though.”

She nods and Kevin slips the blindfold over her eyes, then asks her if she can see anything. She can’t so he takes her hand and leads her up the steps of the Met and into the silent museum. After what feels like eternity and a million twists and turns, Kevin’s hand drops and she can hear his footsteps walking further and further away from her. She sways a little, unsure of her next move. Should she take the blindfold off? Where is she?

“Um hello?” she asks tentatively.

“You can remove the blindfold,” an unknown voice says.

When Betty takes it off, she finds herself facing “The Dance Class” once more. The lights are low in the exhibit, and she can barely make out the dancers on the painting. She’s alone. No Jughead, no Kevin, just her. She hears something that sounds like pointe shoes running on demi pointe, but it can’t be. She whips around to find herself facing a group of dancers, arranged in the way that the ballerinas are mirroring the Degas painting. Their tutus are the same romantic length, their hair the same, their positions frozen in time.

Then she hears the opening bars of the Allegro in Paquita quietly in the background. The dancers in front begin to move into a beautiful choreographed piece. As the music crescendos, more dancers join in, their pointe shoes echoing on the gallery floor.

As they dance, Betty realizes that she recognizes the choreography. It’s the piece that she danced to for the Youth America Grand Prix, the one that helped her solidify her dream of becoming a ballerina. She had such a fun time learning the variation and it was very out of her comfort zone. She had been so scared to perform it but in the end it was all worth it. She watched the dancers with a smile on her face, as they perfected the routine that she performed when she was sixteen.

It’s all over too soon and all the dancers leave but one. She begins to perform the part of Kitri from Don Quixote, a part that Betty played at the Joffrey Ballet, when she was in the company. The dancer performs the variation from the first act, moving from the pas de chat, to a flawless grand battement a la seconde, pirouette piquee en dedans, and then a grande sissonne ouverte, before bourreeing backwards and beginning the movement again. The dancer moves flawlessly through each pirouette from fifth position, and finishes the variation with a flourish.

She is then rejoined by the other original dancers, and they begin the Waltz of the Flowers that Betty danced at the Royal Ballet in England. They move through each balance, piourette, pique, and fouette with grace and poise, their tutus flying away from their bodies. The music crescendos and the dancers pique out of the gallery, and Betty is once again left alone.

The next piece begins and it’s the pas de deux for Sleeping Beauty, the one that Jughead and Betty have been practicing for weeks. She sways a little to the music, running over the steps in her head. The door to the gallery swings open and in he walks, Jughead Jones, sporting tights, a soft looking henley, and ballet shoes.

He walks gracefully towards her and offers his hand. She looks deep into his eyes, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but all the forest green shows is a look of admiration. She sighs, taking his hand and stepping out of her tennis shoes, as he leads her to the middle of the gallery floor. Their pas de deux begins and Betty is overcome with emotion towards this boy.

He holds her hand gently and moves her through each position with grace and ease. She can’t stop smiling at this gorgeous man in front of her and everything that he went through to set up this magical moment.

The two move through the pas de deux, complimenting each other completely. He’s dark and brooding, with smiles only for her, and she’s light and graceful, with emotion hidden behind a perfect facade. To an outsider, they are in love, perfectly portraying the parts of Aurora and her prince. But to anyone who really knows the truth, they are infatuated with each other, and the movements and passion they create.

Betty moves into her final pirouette and develope, before Jughead hoists her onto his shoulder. She extends her front leg in an attitude and they pause for a moment, before he lowers her gracefully to the ground.

She turns to face him: they’re both breathing heavily, arms encompassing each other, and the gallery behind them fades away.

“I missed you, Jughead Jones.”

“I missed you too, Betty Cooper.”

***

As it turns out, Kevin and Ronnie had been instrumental in setting this up. Ronnie had a favor from the Met Gala years ago that she finally cashed in and Kevin dug up old videos of Betty from Youtube. Jughead taught the choreography to the dancers (who were from a local arts school and were paid in Chipotle) after rehearsals had ended at the company. Betty was shocked that he could put this together in a week, but he insisted that he felt bad as soon as he had walked out of the studio the Friday before.

“Betty, I am so so sorry that I almost dropped you. I am sorry that I hurt you. I am sorry that I made you cry and I only hope that you can one day forgive me,” he says, holding her hand across the table at a cafe down the street.

“Juggie, I’ve forgive you. I only hope that you can forgive me for treating you like shit,” Betty replies.

“I don’t know, Cooper, sounds like a pretty tall order,” he says with a wink and she can’t help but laugh.

This day is perfect. Jughead Jones isn’t angry at her, and is a beautiful, romantic human being, and Betty Cooper is pretty damn content with life right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Songs for this chapter:
> 
> "Paquita: Variation 5: Allegro non troppo (by Cherepnin)" by Ludwig Minkus, Boris Spassov  
> "Don Quixote: Act I, Quiteria's Variation" by Ludwig Minkus  
> "Waltz of the Flowers From The Nutcrakcer" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky  
> "Sleeping Beauty, Op.66 (1993 Remaster), Act III: The Wedding, 28. Pas de deux (Aurora and Florimund):: iii. Adagio (Andante non troppo)" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
> 
> The Sleeping Beauty Grande Pas De Deux (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7e1cw_0_k3Y). 
> 
> One more chapter left! I'm definitely going to do an epilogue as well. The new chapter should be out on Tuesday. If you're in America and you celebrate it: have a great Labor Day! Everyone else, enjoy your weekend :)


	6. Amoureux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW at the end of the chapter.

AmericanBalletTheatr  
@ABTBallet  
Who’s coming to see @j_jones and @b.cooper in Sleeping Beauty this weekend? Get tickets bit.ly/029101  
11:56 AM March 14, 2018

In reply to @ABTBallet  
Ballet’s Baddie  
@j_jones  
Can’t wait! Currently bandaging all body parts due to injuries from Hilarie stabbing me with needles during fittings this morning  
5:08 PM March 14, 2018

In reply to @j_jones  
Betty Cooper  
@b.cooper  
Oh you poor baby *eyes roll so hard they fall out of my head*  
5:18 PM March 14, 2018

AmericanBalletTheatr  
@ABTBallet  
Florimund hard at work! Or not? Thanks @blossom for the photo!  
3:24 PM March 15, 2018

In reply to @ABTBallet  
Cheryl Blossomed ;)  
@blossom  
I do not wish to be included in this narrative.  
3:29 PM March 15, 2018

Betty Cooper  
@b.cooper  
So nervous for tomorrow! Who’s coming out?!  
10:49 PM March 15, 2018

In reply to @b.cooper  
Ronnie Lodge  
@v.lodgish  
I can hear you typing from across the house. Go to bed crazy <3  
10:58 PM March 15, 2018

Ballet’s Baddie  
@j_jones  
With my beautiful princess Aurora. Come out and see @b.cooper look graceful af on stage while being in total pain...  
2:13 PM March 16, 2018

In reply to @j_jones  
Betty Cooper  
@b.cooper  
You’re a pain….  
2:17 PM March 16, 2018

Betty Cooper  
@b.cooper  
Well, at least one of us is ready… @blossom  
5:33 PM March 16, 2018

 

***  
Opening Night

Betty is pacing outside of her dressing room. She’s nervous. Very nervous. The show sold out for the first two weekends, and tonight there’s plenty of critics in the audience. At rehearsals all week, the orchestra has been way too fast causing timing issues in all of her solos and duets. One of the “A” cast suitors came down with the flu last minute, so he was replaced with a “B” cast suitor who had no fucking clue because he hadn’t spent any time practicing with Betty. There was a huge snowstorm in Chicago, so Polly, Jason and her mother wouldn’t be making the show, and Chic had mistakenly scheduled something on opening night. Veronica and Archie had practice until late for their own show as did Joaquin, and Kevin was on a deadline. 

Betty couldn’t remember a time when her family didn’t come to see her perform. She always knew that if she messed up, Alice would berate her, but Chic would take her out for ice cream, Polly would lend her the fancy bubble bath, and Hal would give her the biggest hug and whisper how proud he was of the youngest Cooper. 

She found herself longing for her father, his advice, and his bear hugs. She really missed him. 

She had Jughead, yes, to do all of these things with after her performance (except for the berating), but he couldn’t be found currently. He wasn’t answering her continually frantic phone calls and no one knew where the dark-haired principal was. She had DM’ed his Twitter, Instagram, and messaged him on Facebook. His location was turned off on his phone. 

She had seen him this morning for practice, and they had a quick lunch date, but he had rushed out, saying something about meeting up with Fred. Fred, of course, never had a meeting with her partner and insisted that he had no idea where the dancer was. 

So on top of everything else, Betty was nervous that her partner had skipped town because he really didn’t care about her anyways. 

“B.Coop!” Reggie shouted as he came down the hall to her pacing figure. “What’s wrong my dear?”

“What’s wrong? Jughead is missing! That’s what’s wrong!” Betty answered, her voice raising with each statement. 

“Betty, he just got here,” Reggie says with a laugh. “He has a surprise for you.”

Betty barely even hears Reggie finish his sentence as she’s tearing off down the hallway, Reggie’s laughter following her. She turns the corner and finds Jughead standing and talking to the technical director. He turns when he sees her, giving her a big smile. 

She races up to him and throws her arms around his neck, attempting to get as close to the dancer as possible. 

“I thought you left me!” she cries. 

“I would never leave you. I just had to help some damsels in distress,” he replies as they pull away. 

“Damsels?” she asks, remembering the words he said to Susan on her first day at the company. 

“Betty!” 

She turns and Polly’s there. Jason is and Alice is too. Chic’s there, Ronnie’s there, Archie’s there. Kevin and Joaquin bring up the rear of the group. Betty whips back to Jughead, surprise taking over her emotions. 

“You did this? How?” she demands.

“I’ll never tell my secrets,” he says with a laugh. 

She smiles again and kisses his cheek before going to greet her family. 

She hugs her sister first and then Jason. Polly looks amazing in a deep blue dress, with her hair pulled up, and Jason is repping his usual white button-down and black pants. 

“That Jughead, is sure something,” Polly says with a laugh. “Paid for our bus and box tickets for the show tonight.”

“Wait, for everyone?” Betty asks. 

Polly nods enthusiastically. “Sorry I ever doubted him B. I just want the best for you.”

Betty pulls her sister back in for a hug, squeezing a little extra. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Polly says with a grin.

She reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small envelope, before handing it to Betty. Betty opens the envelope and pulls out an ultrasound. Her eyes widen and she looks at her sister and Jason, who has come to put an arm around Polly. 

“I’m gonna be an aunt!?”

Polly nods and Betty throws her arms around her sister for another hug. When Polly releases her, Betty gives Jason another hug. She then turns to her mother, who has a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. 

“Hi mom.”

“Betty, dear, how are you? We haven’t talked in awhile,” Alice says with a sniffle. 

“Good, I’m excited for tonight.”

“Me too dear. But, I know that you’ll dance beautifully. You always have.”

***  
Betty Cooper loved performing. It was a drug in her veins, pushing her to go faster, harder, and longer than any other time. She could feel the energy of the audience when she and Jughead stepped out onto the stage for the last time that night to perform their pas de deux. Everyone was almost waiting with baited breath to see what the princess and her true love would do next. 

Jughead, being the sneaky asshole that he was, actually placed a kiss on her lips when Florimund woke Aurora. She let out a small yelp of surprise and was glad that his body shielded them from the audience. She felt her cheeks heat up and tried to continue her part without thinking about his lips on hers. It didn’t work. 

Betty can’t help but smile at Jughead. He’s always keeping her on her toes, both literally and metaphorically. They’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks, and she only grows in feelings towards him every day since the beginning. And she knows that she’s falling in love with him. 

He spins her effortlessly, his hands grounding her hips in every pirouette and pique arabesque. He is her gravity when she lands jumps and lifts. He is the air underneath her in every penche, every leap and jete. The billowing fabric of his shirt hides the rippling muscles that help her through every move. He’s all power during his solo, leaping higher than ever before, and getting an immense applause in the end. 

They finish out the pas de deux and spend a long time bowing for the applauding audience before moving into the mazurka or Polish folk dance at the end of the ballet. The whole cast dances to a fast paced music and Betty feels alive and happy and beautiful energy flowing through everyone. At the end of the dance, She does a final pique, en dehors piroutte and is hoisted onto Jughead’s shoulder with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. 

The curtain closes and Jughead brings her down. He puts his hands on either side of her face and kisses her soundly, his lips working against hers. They have to get off of stage for their bows, but she’s immersed in this world that is Jughead. The cast cheers, watching their friends kiss, and Betty smiles against Jughead’s lips. He pulls away from her and drags her off into the curtain, where he pushes he up against the curtain and kisses her again. 

Here, hidden in the shadows, Betty breathes haggardly. She tries speak and tries to tell him that they need to go back on stage, but Jughead has other plans for her mouth. She’s sure that her lips are swollen and deep pink, the way that they get after Jughead’s bitten her lower lip and tugged it into his. She’s a gasping, writhing mess and could really give a fuck about the bows but it’s Reggie who breaks up their makeout. 

“Go, assholes!” Reggie says with a laugh. 

Jughead grabs her hand and they run out onto stage and stare into the bright lights, in love, with this moment, each other, and the world around them. 

The curtain closes for the last time and he pulls her close, whispering in her ear. 

“I love you Betty.”

“Jughead Jones, I love you.”

*** (NSFW)

He finds her later sitting out on the stage, arms tucked around her knees, looking out into the empty audience. It’s well past midnight, and they’re the only ones left. 

“Betts?”

She turns her head over her shoulder to look at her partner. 

“Yeah, Juggie?”

“You danced beautifully,” Jughead says, leaning against a prop on stage. 

She untangles herself from her sitting position and walks over to him. She pushes a lock of hair back into his beanie and smiles at him. 

“Thanks, Juggie,” she says earnestly. 

He leans in and kisses her, hand caressing her cheek, before winding its way into her hair. He tugs a little at the blonde, hairsprayed mess and she gasps into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and sinking fingertips into the cotton of his shirt. 

His hands move down to her hips, then her ass, gripping and molding the muscles. He then slips his hands underneath, and picks her up, her legs wrapping around his hips. He walks off of the stage and into one of the side dressing rooms. She pulls off her top and helps him with his, wanting desperately to feel the skin beneath her fingertips. 

They’re both scrambling for purchase against each other’s mouths, feeling undiscovered skin, and breathing heavily. Jughead moves a hand down from her face and cups her breast, rubbing a peaked nipple with his tumb. Betty gasps into the kiss and Jughead slips his tongue in, winning the battle. 

He removes his mouth from hers and places lips over her nipple, biting and nipping the tender flesh while Betty’s head falls back and hits the mirror. She releases a breathy moan, which only makes Jughead work harder against her breast. From one breast, he moves to the other, then kisses down her stomach to where her thighs meet. He pulls the leggings from her body and places his lips over her clit. 

He experimentally licks a few times, before delving into her folds. Betty can’t control the sounds coming from her mouth, and it eggs him on to move his tongue more expertly against her. Her thighs are trembling and she’s struggling to keep them open and bent so Jughead can continue. He forces her knees wide and looks up at her, irises so dark they’re almost black. 

“Keep your legs open. Or else,” he says in a octave three times lower than normal.

Betty almost comes right there. 

He resumes his ministrations against her clit until she’s screaming that she’s coming and releases into his mouth. He stands and kisses her again with the same ferocity as before. She can taste herself on his tongue and moans. 

“Fuck me Juggie.”

“Much obliged,” he says with a wink and he pulls down his sweatpants. 

She scoots to the end of the counter and he positions himself against her, sliding deep into her in a smooth thrust. He stills for a moment, looking into her eyes, before placing a sweet kiss on her lips and moving inside of her again. 

The next moments are filled with moans and sighs from her and mumbled cuss words from him. His hands grip her hips and her head is thrown back, exposing her neck and collarbones to him. He kisses and bites his way along them and she digs her nails into his back, leaving long, angry red scratches. 

He removes himself from inside of her, and flips her over before she can even complain. Now, she’s been over the counter, watching Jughead fuck her in the mirror. He gathers her hair in his right hand and pulls her head back, exposing the long column of her neck. Her eyelids flutter close as he reenters her, hitting a spot within her that makes her toes curl. 

She reaches underneath her to rub her clit, but finds his fingers already there, rubbing the skin and sending shockwaves through her body. She grips the counter as he rhythmically slips in and out of her. With each circle on her clit, he brings her closer and closer to orgasm, until she’s clenching around him and he’s coming inside of her. 

Her arms give way and she collapses against the counter, but Jughead slips an arm around her waist to keep her in place. She tries to calm her breathing and feels Jughead doing the same thing. His body is sweaty against her and while there’s a small thought in the back of her mind about how gross it is, she’s content with exactly where she’s at. 

They stay like this for a few moments, and when Jughead pulls out of her, she winces at the loss. She still doesn’t trust her legs, so she grips the counter in order to help her stand. She turns around and watches Jughead walk over to the sink, wet a cloth with warm water and come back to her. He gingerly wipes down her clit and her folds, the warm water soothing against her muscles. He helps her to sit back up on the counter and passes his shirt to her wordlessly. She puts it on and he steps between her legs. 

“That was eventful,” he says with a smile and she wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Who’s dressing room is this anyways?” she asks. 

“Cheryl’s,” he replies with a ruthless smile and she can’t help but laugh. 

He leans in for a kiss and Betty’s obliges, and with that, the curtain falls.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your love and support. It's the shit and I enjoy your comments so much <3
> 
> Epilogue should be up soon!
> 
> Comment and let me know what I should write next! I love a good challenge. 
> 
> And thank you, again, for reading.


	7. Epilogue

*******

**April 29, 2019**

 

**Weddings**

_Jones-Cooper_

Forsythe Pendelton Jones III and Elizabeth Cooper of New York City were married on April 26, 2019 in the Degas exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Elizabeth is the daughter of Alice Cooper and the late Hal Cooper and is a principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater. Forsythe (son of Forsythe Pendelton Jones II and Gladys Jones) also dances at the company as a principal.

Friend of the bride and groom, Fred Andrews officiated the wedding. Veronica Lodge acted as Maid of Honor and Elizabeth’s sister, Polly Blossom acted as Matron of Honor. Archibald Andrews was the Best Man.

The couple made history in the American Ballet Theater’s Sleeping Beauty in 2018, selling out all of their performances. Forsythe is looking to open his own company in the future in New York City and focus on training students in low-income communities and/or from homes where substance abuse is prevalent. Elizabeth looks to dance with the company for several more years and teaches at a local dance studio on the weekends.

A reception was held at the Gramercy Park Terrace with famous guests such as Misty Copeland, Ellen Degeneres, Kit Harrington, and Chrissy Teigen. Hozier performed “Crazy Love” originally by Van Morrison for the couple’s first dance.

  


*******

**September 10, 2021**

 

**A Ballet to New York**

By Kevin Keller

_Cosmopolitan Copy Editor_

 

Jughead Jones is always working. This time it’s on a ballet that every New Yorker will connect with. I sat down with him this week for the ballet that opens September 17.

“So tell me, Jughead, what is this super secretive ballet about?” I ask.

“It’s a love-affair with New York. It’s set in Grand Central Station. I used to go all the time and watch the reunions that people had in the station. I loved every second of it, seeing their emotions and how the people were so in love with that one moment. So, with a little help, I choreographed it and ABT picked it up as their fall show.”

Jughead no longer works for ABT, but does a lot of collaborative work. His studio, Joy Division opened in January of 2020 and works with children ages 3-18. The company focuses on empowering students who are from low-income neighborhoods or come from homes where substance abuse is prevalent.

It’s all very noble.

Makes me like him even more.

“Where did you get the help from?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He rolls his eyes at my bait.

“My wife Betty helped choreograph the piece. She still works at ABT and I took her to Grand Central on our first date.”

He laughs a little before continuing.

“If you watch closely, you might recognize some choreography.”

Intriguing.

Grand Central Ballet opens next Friday at 7 PM and runs for two weeks. I would hurry. Critics are raving and tickets are flying off the shelves.

 

*******

**December 29, 2022**

**Births**

_Jones_

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III and Elizabeth Jones welcomed their son, Bowie Pendleton, and daughter, Leona Harriet, into the world at 9:34 AM and 9:41 AM respectively on Thursday December 22, 2022. Bowie was 6 pounds, 5 ounces and 19 inches long. Leona was 6 pounds, 3 ounces and 21 inches long.

Present for the birth were paternal grandparents Forsythe Pendleton Jones II and Gladys Jones and maternal grandmother Alice Cooper. Also present were godparents Archibald and Veronica Andrews and Kevin and Joaquin Keller.

Leona’s middle name is for Hal Cooper, Elizabeth’s late father, and Bowie’s middle name is for a tradition in the Jones family. Forsythe and Elizabeth are so happy to be welcoming their children into this world.

 

*******

**August 21, 2026**

_Betty Jones to Join Artistic Board of Directors at American Ballet Theater_

By Ethel Muggs

After a torn ACL left Betty Jones injured and unable to dance in 2024, the American Ballet Theater opened a spot for the revered ballet dancer on their artistic board. There, Betty will be able to plan and oversee future shows for the company.

A spokesperson for the company says that Betty is very excited to be continuing her dancing education and passion by taking on a new role.

Betty danced for the company for eight years before her retirement and met her husband Jughead Jones, in her first season at the ballet. Jughead runs the Joy Division Company out of Brooklyn and has produced three Youth America Grand Prix winners in five years.

The couple has four children together (Bowie and Leona, 3, Emerson, 2, and Wes, 4 months). They currently live in Brooklyn.

Betty has plans to create a dance camp between corps de ballet dancers at ABT and students at her husband’s company.

 

*******

**April 3, 2042**

**Beat Reporting**

_The Tradition Lives On_

Emerson Jones, 18, places first in the Senior Division at the Youth American Grand Prix. She will follow in the footsteps of her mother and father, Betty and Jughead Jones, and join the ranks of The Joffrey Ballet in Chicago as a soloist.

Emerson is the only one out of her siblings to begin dancing at age three. In a 2030 interview, Jughead was asked why he didn’t push his children into dancing.

“Kids have to be themselves. They have to figure things out and be curious and try so many things,” Jughead said. “If they want to dance, great! If they don’t, great! I’m not going to make anyone do anything that they don’t want to.”

Emerson’s older siblings Bowie and Leona both attend New York University. Bowie is studying archeology and Leona is studying broadcasting with a minor in acting. Younger sibling, Wes, is a sophomore in high school.

Emerson can’t wait to be a professional ballerina in an interview post competition.

“My mom, she’s my biggest fan and supporter,” Emerson said. “I danced the variation of Paquita that she did at the YAGP when she was my age. She didn’t know until I started it. All of this, it’s because of her.”

Good luck to Emerson in the future.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I loved every single of your comments and I really appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first Bughead fanfiction! I danced for 15 years and decided that our favorite characters needed a little time in the studio. If you need help understanding any ballet terms, ABT has a really great dictionary (http://www.abt.org/education/dictionary/). Comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Song for this chapter: "The Sleeping Beauty, Suite, Op.662, TH234, 2.Pas d'action: Rose Adagio" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky


End file.
